We

All of our beauty is ugliness, and all our ugliness is beauty. The secret of the world is that in each of us is both, to be alive is to hold everything inside ourselves at once. To understand and be. A fleshy conduit of suffering and ecstasy, violence and love, hideousness and lust; to be at peace with the war all around us.

Elizabeth: Reprise

Every time I drink words run like a river from my limp lips. Maybe they're the tears that my eyes never shed, maybe they're the thoughts I thought were dead. I don't know anymore. Maybe you would, if you could. If I could say...I don't know maybe I would know. I love you he said, she said nothing, maybe I don't know. Or maybe she doesn't know and hope is worth waiting for, but under these orange street lights everything is "No". I hope I don't know, I hope she doesn't know. Every time I drink words like this run like a river from my limp lips, my finger tips tap clumsily away above my loose hips. I think that maybe they're the tears that my eyes never shed, the words left on my tongue...dead. I don't know maybe its all in my head, swimming from bank to bank, wandering across deserts, unprepared I'm wandering hurt and fake; drowning in front of you in your lake.

A Lover in Père Lachaise

This world it didn’t love you like I did. Like a jealous lover, it took from you then tried to bleach your beauty. It defiled it and nearly ruined you; but I know you, I knew you. No one understood a love like ours; there are some people that don’t understand love at all. You know I still love; I still love you like I always did. I raised your stone; it was beautiful like I said I would. The world will know you I swear, I’ll make them see. Times will change, ends will come and they will know you I swear. I will make you live forever so you will never leave us alone again. We all need to be in love all the time. I raised that stone like I said I would. I left a space in it for me, so we can always look at each other, so I can be a piece of you like I always wish I was. I still love,
I still love you like I always did.

Dirk

How fitting he took the name of a blade. Through a life of cloak and dagger, he spends his days fleeing the light, fighting the night inside. What better to cut with? How fitting to find him gone when I turn around; leaving only the pain of his name.

The name of a blade.

The Life, Death, and Ressurection of a Small Town Soul

I made it to the moon today, just to hang from your string. I wanted to be changed, I wanted to love you. But that’s a sad song. It’s untrue. I wanted to bleed something new; I wanted to hide inside of you. This tumble weed town ain’t worth a thing it hasn’t seen. And I don’t know, maybe you’ve never been. Maybe you’ve never heard that one before. I’m sorry; I’d be your wooden dancer. I’d be your Mshykin. I’d be Mary Shelly’s Thing and Winston Smith all wrapped in one. Just please tell me it would make me love you.

Show me a calling, make me blind; because I’m done either way, but with this maybe…..maybe I wouldn’t’ be so sad sad sad. Maybe I’d learn to know you. I could change. ‘Be the very thing I am so sad for too. I could start a whole new life, without you; but I know I’d be lying. “Heart ache” and die, like Brian Jones did. I dreamed of tears in a pool, that you could find me in too. God’s maintenance man could take me, and you’d know everything would be like new. Spring rains would come and wash even my muddy bank. They would cover the bones and blisters under a prairie river. Then my body tricked me and it took a breath.

After what seemed like ten thousand years the ground finally shook. I feared Hell had come to meet me. I cried and screamed and I cursed; I yelled profanities and lies into the skies until blood fell like tears from my lungs. I said no, no it couldn’t be, there was no one there, but I was a fool, I didn’t even know myself.

Then with no objections or lamentations, above me gathered phantoms and spectre’s; above my grave. I knew I had been put there by no-lovers kiss, and the cut of a knave.